


Pride

by Nephilim



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Father Son Bonding, Gen, Injury, Pre-Canon, Story behind the scar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 04:17:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10153481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nephilim/pseuds/Nephilim
Summary: Gladio has been missing all night, and comes home with a wound across his face to his father's horror.





	

1:56am Saturday 

Clarus Amicitia sat on the edge of his seat, phone grasped firmly in his calloused hand as eyes locked on the front door. His young daughter had long since retired to bed for the night despite insisting on waiting until her big brother returned home. 

A worried fire burned in Clarus’ gut. It was so unlike Gladio to not answer his phone or stay out unannounced in general. It was a well practiced family discipline to always keep the others in the loop for in their line of duty an important call could come at any moment. 

So what was keeping his well behaved, dutiful son out at this hour? The apprehensive father wasn't prepared to lie in wait much longer. Just as he couldn't restrain his urge to go searching any longer - the click of the door handle sounded in the silence. 

“Gladiolus Amicitia where in Shiva’s name have you-?” The older man began to scold as he stood to attention, catching his tongue as he noticed something off. Gladio was uncharacteristically quiet and carried himself without his usual pride; at first glance one might even have thought he’d had too much to drink.

The blood flowing down over the young crownsguard’s arm told a different tale. Gladio staggered wearily and touched down on the back of the couch as his other hand pooled with barely stemmed blood flow, hard lines forming on his face from the pain of a now blatant injury.

“Gladio.” Clarus’ voice was softer now, but unwavering in its urgency. A hand reached up to grasp his son’s shoulder, shepherding the taller male until he was seated on the leather couch. A careful motion coaxed his sons hand from his face as Clarus knelt down to inspect it in the dim lamplight. 

“What happened, my son?” It was hard to keep his composure as he was faced with a vicious line carved vertically into what seemed like half of his only son’s face. Although he knew he should come to expect war wounds, the elder guard couldn't deny the sinking in his gut - though Gladio was a big, strong lad he would always be the baby he held in his arms all those years ago. 

Gladio met Clarus’ question with a reluctant look, eyes darting downward to the carpet, lips pursed as he let out a small huff - a telltale sign that he was stuck in a corner. 

At least, he thought he was. Especially in recent years, Gladio had come to see his father as a mentor - someone to obey, and he had defied that, and over something so… petty. 

“Gladio.” Clarus pressed further before standing to gather a wash cloth and bowl of water when he received no answer.

“Gladiolus, if someone is causing harm to crownsguard I need to know about it. Imagine if the King-”

“A drunk did it, alright?” Gladio finally spilled out, hissing as the damp cloth touched the deep wound. 

“A drunk? What were you..?” Clarus’ eyes narrowed somewhat, studying his son’s expression and averted gaze. He was embarrassed, resembling a guilty child. Gladio hesitated before answering, and he did so barely audibly as he commandeered the cloth to cover his cut.

“I'm sorry. The prince snuck out to go to a party and I thought if I just accompanied him instead of taking him home he could have a little fun for once..” He muttered, shrugging frustratedly before continuing.

“A couple of kids were too drunk and I took a glass bottle for the Prince, I didn't wanna hurt a civilian. I know, I know it's stupid and I should've just…” 

A hand gently slapped against the back of the younger guard’s head, hardly the punishment Gladio was expecting. Following the tap, a chuckle. 

“Son, you do make me proud.” Clarus offered his son a warm smile as he checked the wound. “I can't blame you, though I do wish you'd take better care of the face your mother gave you.” 

Gladio chuffed, a smile curling the corners of his lips as he stayed still for the sake of his father’s inspection. Several quips and lighthearted remarks were shared before Gladio was bandaged and Clarus let a hand rest on his son’s broad shoulder. 

“You're a fine shield. You do your old man proud.” 

Those words fueled an everflame in Gladio’s chest, and the inevitable scar would no longer just be a mark of a mistake - but a reminder of the words shared that night.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this is okay, it's just another bit of late night writing I did because I love father son relationships!


End file.
